


The Spell

by irishwoodkern



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-03-08 09:21:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3204071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishwoodkern/pseuds/irishwoodkern
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stood up by their respective dates, Crane and Abbie share a dance that changes everything. Do they have a future or will magic always come between them?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Abbie smoothed her sleek hair over one shoulder and glanced at the clock once again. This was getting beyond a joke. She had already double-checked the time and location that she had meticulously recorded on her phone: _McKay's Tavern, Saturday 8:30pm._ It was nudging 9:15 and there was still no call from James.

She had tried to manage her expectations from the start. After all, it had been a while since Luke and, given her divinely-appointed role as Witness, her love life had been pretty much non-existent since then. However, something clicked in her the moment she bumped into James in the Emergency Ward.

She had just questioned a woman who claimed that a demon tried to pull her from her stalled car on the turnpike. He was coming out of surgery, where he had just reattached the arm of a chef who'd tangled with a mincer and lost. The attraction was instantaneous. Somehow talking to him felt so natural, so right. It had been a long time since she had had a conversation with someone that didn't involve demons and witches and Apocalyptic dealings.

Truth to tell, she was done being the intermediary between Crane and his wife. For weeks now, she had swallowed her doubts and misgivings about Katrina in an attempt to be supportive. Despite all of her deceptions, Crane still felt an abiding need to make his marriage work. Without the hope of a future with Katrina, he felt rootless and lost in the twenty-first century.

For all that Abbie had supported him, both financially and emotionally, she knew that she could not give him the help that he needed. For now, at least for tonight, she needed to think about herself.

Even as she put on her highest heels and dolled herself up, she couldn't help worrying about Crane. He was helping to organise the Re-enactment Society's Spring Ball, and she knew that he was looking forward to attending with Katrina. A taste of life in their former times would surely help to reset their emotional trajectory and repair the ties between them.

As she sat in the bar, nursing her second whiskey and water, she felt a horrible sense of inevitability. Every glimpse she got of a normal life seemed to be illusory. Every time something potentially new or unexpected entered her field of vision, it turned out to be either a threat or a disappointment.

What had happened to her life? Her Mama would surely be shaking her head if she could see her now, sitting in a bar by herself, stood up by the one viable date she had had in months.

Her God-given appointment seemed like nothing so much as a poisoned chalice. She could not deny that the only spot of light or hope in the darkness and doubt that enveloped her life was Crane. Despite everything else, his friendship was her only source of consolation.

Her phone buzzed, and Abbie didn't need to check the screen to know who it would be.

'Hey, James,' she answered smoothly, not betraying her irritation.

'Abbie! I'm so sorry I didn't call earlier – you have no idea.'

The tiredness and strain was evident in his voice and Abbie's annoyance melted away on the spot. There had been a three car pile-up on the interstate and an entire family had been brought into the ER. He had been on his feet for eighteen hours straight and there was no end in sight.

'Look, Abbie. I shouldn't have even asked you out to begin with. My life is a trainwreck now that I'm a resident. I barely have time to sleep, let alone have drinks with a beautiful woman. I'm not blowing you off, I swear…'

'James,' Abbie broke in. 'To be honest, my life is a total disaster too. I thought I could have a night off from it, but I guess I was looking in the wrong place.'

As Abbie hung up, she felt a strange sense of calm. The world was full of people struggling with all their might to do good – she wasn't the only one. She walked out of the bar, intending to take the short-cut home but found herself irresistibly drawn towards the Town Hall where the Re-enactment Society ball was taking place.

The candle-lit rooms and sounds of music wafting from within were so inviting that she couldn't resist taking a closer look. The interior of the hall was lavishly decorated with freshly-cut flowers and greenery. Everything looked authentic, from the bewigged footmen to the costumed quartet playing quadrilles and minuets.

Her eyes swept the room, trying to locate Crane and Katrina amongst the corseted and powdered couples. She felt a sudden sting that she had not been invited. As goofy as the whole event had seemed to her, it was infinitely preferable to sitting in a bar by herself.

She dismissed the idea as nonsensical. She was not Katrina, and as baffling as the thought was, the only person who would make the night enjoyable was Crane.

'Abbie?'

She turned and saw him standing five feet away from her. Her heart swelled with something like pride when she saw him dressed in his finery, his hair pulled back in a single queue. He seemed confounded to see her, and Abbie was struck with the unpleasant realisation that she might not be welcome.

'Hey, Crane.' Her voice was cheerful, hiding her discomposure. 'I was just passing, so I stuck my head in the door how you crazy colonials like to party.'

'Oh, I…' He seemed as uncomfortable as she felt. 'Everything seems to be advancing according to plan. How was your evening?'

'It was a non-starter. My date didn't show up.'

A strange look flitted across his face – a combination of irritation and something else, something Abbie was afraid to probe too deeply.

'That is unfortunate. You look very lovely.'

Abbie felt herself blushing furiously, even though Crane surely meant the compliment as nothing more than everyday gallantry. 'Thank you. How is Katrina – is she having a good time?'

Crane's expression darkened. 'Katrina was unable to come this evening. She was suffering from a headache.'

_Sure._ Abbie thought bitterly. _Spending time with her favourite ex-fiancé and minion of darkness._

'Oh,' Abbie replied, unable to form a more coherent response.

'It seems we are both without partners this evening,' he said thoughtfully. 'Would you care to dance with me?'

'Um, I don't think I'm dressed for the part. And all that mincing and shuffling isn't exactly what I call dancing.'

Crane smiled broadly and Abbie felt a jolt inside.

'I'm well aware what this generation considers to be dancing. However, I believe the next dance is the waltz, which you cannot possibly be unfamiliar with.'

With a combination of trepidation and excitement, Abbie clasped his outstretched hand and allowed herself to be lead to the dance floor. She couldn't resist smiling as Crane dipped low into an elaborate bow. She responded with an awkward curtsey as the music swelled around them.

Suddenly, the night that had begun so disastrously had become something else, something almost magnificent.

* * *

A touch of the glamour that had surrounded them throughout the dance still clung to them as Crane walked her back to her house. Try as she might, Abbie was unable to stop grinning.

She was tempted to speak, to express the immense joy she felt at being in his company. It was as if a spell had been cast, banishing her fear and loneliness forever.

As soon they reached her front door, she knew that the magic could not last. Crane was still a married man and her partner, and whatever they felt that night, his loyalty would always be to his marriage, to Katrina.

With all of those thoughts swimming through her mind, she was astonished when Crane took her hand and gently kissed it.

'Crane, I…'

'Please, Miss Mills.' His voice was hoarse, barely louder than a whisper. 'Do not tell me what I already know is true.'

He gazed at her intensely for what seemed an eternity. 'In a few moments, I must return home to a wife for whom I have lost much of my former esteem, to a marriage which may be unsalvageable. Grant me this one moment of happiness.'

Abbie felt tears stinging her eyes. It was as if, for the first time, they weren't speaking in code to one another. Everything was laid bare in the pallor of the moonlight.

'This isn't fair. You have someone at least. What do I get?'

The unfathomable tenderness in Crane's eyes made her heart ache. 'What does either one of us get, except the shadow of the thing we crave the most?'

Abbie knew in that moment the truth that she had been running from. The sense of frustration and despair that she had felt in the bar all came back to this – the unnameable thing that lay between them.

'Grant me this, Abigail. Allow me to say that I have never beheld anything – neither graven image nor woman born – as beautiful as you are at this moment.'

She wanted to cry, but more than that she wanted to punch him. Damn Katrina and her lies, damn Crane and his weakness.

She looked deep into his eyes and saw herself reflected in them, and knew that it would never be over between them. As sure as the approaching Apocalypse was the inescapable love she felt for Ichabod Crane.

As she reached for him, she knew they were both damned.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It didn't take much arm-twisting for this to change from a one-shot to a going concern. Thanks to all my reviewers – I'm floored by your kind words.

Crane knew that he was damned; he knew it from the second that his lips touched Abbie's. He remembered each moment with perfect clarity – the unquenchable hunger that battled with the sickening fear in his heart, the exhilaration he felt when he saw the same struggle reflected in Abbie's eyes.

Then all doubt was quenched in the cool of her lips.

It was tentative at first, gentle and sweetly innocent, but her arms quickly snaked around his neck and her small, soft body pressed against his. The recollection of how snugly she fit in the span of his arms was agonising.

He was a scoundrel, a villain of the lowest order. A married man making love to another woman – he despised himself. Yet, as Abbie's teeth tugged insistently at his lower lip and she moaned her pleasure into his mouth, he knew that there was nothing in the world that could make him stop.

Crane as suddenly aware that they had reached the Rubicon – the point of no return. If they continued on with this, it could shatter all they had built forever. Their friendship and partnership would surely be untenable, and his marriage… good God, his marriage…

It was Abbie who broke first.

'Oh my God, what are we doing?' she whispered, pulling away.

Crane could not speak for grief. His heart was faced with an ineluctable dilemma – he had resisted this attraction for so long, clinging tightly to the vows and dreams of another life. Now, unexpectedly, he had found all he ever wanted in the form of Lieutenant Abbie Mills.

Try as he might, he could not summon up the enchantment that had once comforted him whenever he thought of Katrina. Her image no longer inspired him with warmth and longing; too much doubt and mistrust lingered between them.

As sure as he was of anything, he knew that Abbie had overthrown Katrina in his heart.

* * *

Monday morning arrived, and the sense of guilt and self-loathing that had plagued him all weekend had not abated. Not only had he broken his marriage vows, but he had done it with the kindest and best person he knew. Worse than that, more painful than his sin was the knowledge than she had rejected him. Crane was sure Abbie held him in even more contempt than he felt for himself.

She entered the Archives, looking no less exquisite in his eyes than she had when he had first beheld her that night.

Crane clambered to his feet, ready to bare his soul and beg for her forgiveness. He would pledge anything, perform any feat of penance to retrieve their precious friendship. He would even live out his days in a loveless marriage if she asked him to.

Abbie held her hand up to arrest his speech. 'Before you say anything, I think we should forget about what happened on Saturday. Whatever we felt then, it's impossible…'

She kept her eyes rooted on her hands. Each word was recited with cool precision as if from a script.

'I was upset. James stood me up and you made me feel special – that's all. You and the night and the moonlight and all the rest.' She was rambling now, struggling to reign in her rehearsed speech.

'You're married,' she concluded, 'and I refuse to be the other woman. So let's forget about it.'

'No,' he replied, surprising himself. He had spent the previous thirty-six hours contemplating similar thoughts, despising himself more with every moment that passed. He always depended on Abbie to make him see sense, to argue him out of his moods with logic and sheer bloody-mindedness. To hear her speak to him in such a detached way was infuriating.

'No what?' Abbie's face bore an expression of implacable calm that only incensed him more.

'I shall not forget it. Tell me, if Katrina were not a factor in this, would you have pulled away?'

A trace of annoyance flitted across her face and her volume increased a notch. 'She is a factor – I can't believe we're even arguing about this! You have a wife, Crane.'

'But I want you.' The moment the words escaped him, Crane realised how petulant they sounded. Like a child, he thought that wanting something was enough to make it happen.

'You want me?' Abbie raised an eyebrow. 'You mean you want to sleep with me.'

'Yes!' he replied with more vehemence than he intended. 'Yes, I want to sleep with you, Abbie,' he continued, softer, his words tumbling unstoppably from his lips. 'And I want to wake up with you, and I want to labour by your side every day in the knowledge that you feel as I feel, that we belong to each other.'

Abbie's inscrutable expression began to crumble as he spoke. She wanted to stop him, but at the same time she needed to hear more.

'I want to build a house for you, and fill it with our children. I want to make promises to you, and live to see them fulfilled. I want to know that I can be lucky twice in my life… That is what I mean when I say I want you, Grace Abigail Mills. I mean body and soul, forever.'

He breathed heavily after his outburst. In the silence that surrounded them, he felt like a fool, like he had destroyed everything more completely than before.

A tear escaped her lashes and rolled down her cheek. It was as if she stood on a knife-edge, hovering between ecstasy and despair.

'But Katrina…' she uttered.

'Yes, Katrina,' Crane replied, his eyes never leaving hers. 'Katrina must be told, and she will be. But only…'

He paused, fear creeping across his face like a demon in the night. 'Only if you love me too.'

Abbie flung herself into his arms, and the spell was cast anew.


	3. Chapter 3

Crane's cheeks burned as he strode down the quiet country lane – a combination of the warmth of the day and the abiding memory of Abbie's lips upon his. She had offered him a ride to the cabin, but he knew that close proximity to her in the confines of the car would be too much of a temptation.

They had spent a blissful morning on one of the hard-backed seats in the Archives, just holding each other and stealing indulgent kisses. Eventually, Crane had to tear himself away from her, knowing that he could not trust himself to stay.

He was well aware of the enormity of the step he was about to take. Ending a marriage was not a task to be taken lightly. He felt a deep sense of sadness and waste when he thought of the life he had shared with Katrina. It had once been the anchor of his life, a safe harbour away from the horrors of war.

Just as he was forever separated from his friends and comrades-in-arms, it had slowly dawned on his that he was irrevocably divided from Katrina. Suddenly and with a violence that shuddered his soul, his heart had been struck with love for another woman.

Abbie represented everything that was good about the twenty-first century. All the things that had once seemed so confusing and contradictory about her were now proof of her superiority over all other women. She was strong yet feminine, fearless yet oddly vulnerable, and despite her formidable exterior she was gifted with a tender and generous heart.

It frightened him to realise how utterly smitten he was with her. He had once been similarly enraptured with Katrina, but Abbie was no prize to be won, no jewel to be protected. Abbie was his equal – the partner of his present and future.

He heaved a great breath before opening the door of the cabin and stepping inside. The first sight that met his eyes was Katrina's face – so innocent and lovely. She so closely resembled the woman he had first fallen in love with that his heart almost stopped.

It was only then that he saw that she wasn't alone. Sitting on the floor in front of her was a woman that Crane faintly recognised from one of the History Society's soirées. Candles were lit around the interior of the cabin.

'My love,' Katrina uttered, her eyes wild with shock. 'You remember Sapphire McQueen, don't you?'

Crane bowed to the middle-aged woman, her hair dyed a shocking red. 'Enchanted.'

He turned his attention to Katrina, a hint of suspicion creeping through his mind. He felt as though he was interrupting something. 'Might we speak in private, Katrina?'

Sapphire pulled on her jacket and headed for the door. 'I'll leave you two alone. The children will be waiting for their dinner.'

'Katrina,' Crane began as soon as the door closed behind the departing woman. 'There is something very serious that I have to say to you.'

Katrina closed the distance between them and reached out to touch his face. Crane spun away from her way, trying to think clearly.

'You cannot be unaware of how sorely our marriage has been tested since your release from Purgatory. I have struggled with your lack of candour regarding your pregnancy, your bent for witchcraft, Mary's unfortunate fate, and most of all your ongoing association with Abraham…'

'How many times must I explain my actions to you, Ichabod? Everything I have done has been in service of our mission…'

Crane held up a hand. 'I do not wish to argue, Katrina. We have spent so much time trying to unravel the snare that has woven in our marriage. We are both weary of it.'

'What are you saying?' Katrina sounded frightened. 'That you no longer love me?'

'I fear not, Katrina.'

A look of anger crossed her features. 'It's Abigail, isn't it?'

'It is. I love her, Katrina. I do not know how long I have harboured these feelings, but I know that I cannot continue to live with you.'

Katrina stood slumped in a posture of defeat. 'I feared this would happen. When I first saw the strength of your bond with her, I knew I could not compete. Does she feel as you do?'

'I believe so.'

'And you wish to court her?'

Crane nodded. 'I assure you that we will be discreet.'

'Discreet? After all those years of marriage, everything have suffered for your sake – the pains of Purgatory, captivity, being separated from our son – the best I can hope for is discretion?'

There was an unpleasant note of malice in Katrina's voice, something Crane did not recognise as belonging to his wife. 'What more do you ask for?' he asked.

* * *

Abbie entered the Archives with a swing in her step. She had spent the past two hours in a gruelling traffic jam coming back from a domestic dispute on the edge of town. Despite the monotony of non-supernatural police work, she could not stop herself from smiling.

For the first time – perhaps ever – she felt a profound sense of optimism about the future. She loved Crane; it was strange that something so obvious had gnarled her up in confusion for months. What was even more incredible was the realisation that he loved her too.

Crane sat straight-backed at the table, apparently lost in thought. He started in surprise as Abbie planted a kiss on his cheek and plonked herself down beside him.

'Hey.'

'Good evening, my love. You find me much troubled.'

Alarm bells rang in Abbie's mind. Deep inside, she knew that whether Crane was about to say could not be good. She braced herself for impact. 'You spoke to Katrina?'

Crane nodded tersely. 'She did not take it well. I am afraid you will not be best pleased with me.'

'Why?' Abbie's unease grew with every moment that passed.

Crane avoided her eyes as he spoke, keeping his gaze fixed ahead of him. 'I mean to honour all the promises I made to you this morning. In order to achieve that, I must extricate myself from Katrina in an honourable manner.'

'What does that mean exactly?' she asked with as much calm as she could muster.

There was a tense moment of silence as he considered his answer. 'Katrina asked me not to pursue a relationship with you until our mission was completed.'

'She did what?' Abbie realised that her voice had reached an almost inhuman pitch, but she couldn't have cared less. 'You told her where she could go, right?'

'I thought it best not to unduly antagonise her, seeing that we must ally ourselves with her against the forces of evil.'

Abbie jumped to her feet, scarcely able to believe what she was hearing. 'You agreed to it?'

'No! Of course of I refused. I agreed that we would be discreet, but nothing more.'

This was small comfort to Abbie. In that moment, she was tempted to storm out of the Archives and not look back. _To hell with Katrina. To hell with both of them._

'Abbie,' Crane implored. He gestured towards her vacated seat. Reluctantly, she sat down again.

'I do not to move with indecent haste. I wish to court you properly, to honour you in the manner you deserve. I need to be sure that what I feel for you is not tainted with bitterness for Katrina.'

Abbie bristled with indignation. She hated to think that Katrina held any influence over Crane, but as she looked at his helpless expression, she felt her irritation slowly melt away. Much to her chagrin, she understood Crane's need to avoid rushing into a physical relationship. She could not deny him his wish to end his marriage with some kind of decorum.

'So… what you're saying is you wanna take it slow?'

Crane let out a breath that he had been holding. 'Yes, if that is acceptable to you.'

'That means no hanky-panky for a while, huh?' Abbie raised a saucy eyebrow.

He reddened and laughed – a sound that Abbie relished. 'Then you do not mind delaying our… union?'

She grasped his hands in hers. 'As long as you're not doing this because you feel sorry for her. I don't want her playing mind-games with you.'

'I can assure you, I bear no pity for Katrina.'

Abbie toyed with his long fingers, enjoying the contact of skin against skin. 'You do want to though, with me?' she asked shyly. 'I mean, eventually?'

'Desperately.' Crane looked embarrassed, much to Abbie's amusement. 'That is, surely you are aware of how ravishing you are?'

'Ravishing?' Abbie pondered the word. 'I like the sound of that.'

'Indeed.' Crane's breath hitched and his eyes darkened. 'Without being too indelicate, you are almost irresistible.'

Abbie found that she could not tear her eyes away from his lips. 'Almost?' she whispered. 'This whole "taking it slow" thing is going to be tough, because I really want to kiss you right now.'

He leaned towards her. 'Miss Mills, kissing is always permitted between us.'


	4. Chapter 4

Abbie seethed with irritation as she pulled up in front of the cabin. Perhaps it wasn't necessary to sound the horn with quite so much force, but she had slept poorly and the last thing she needed was Crane holding her up.

She heaved a guilty sigh. Crane didn't deserve her ire, not since he had been so damned sweet to her all week.

Every morning, Abbie had arrived at work to find a fresh token of affection deposited on her desk. One day it was a piping-hot cappuccino with a shot of vanilla, just the way she liked it. The next morning, she found a freshly-cut primrose – she had once mentioned in passing that it was her favourite flower. The day before, she discovered a sonnet written in Crane's beautiful hand, paying flowery tribute to her eyes.

She had to laugh at that one. Crane was many things, but a poet he was not. She was touched by the gesture nonetheless, imagining all the thought and effort he had put into it. She realised that she quite liked being courted eighteenth-century style. When it came to relationships, she usually preferred to be in control, but she found that there was something incredibly sexy about anticipation.

A woman only had so much patience, though. Last night, her frustrations manifested themselves in powerful dreams, full of Crane. She could practically feel his lips and hands ghosting over her skin. His body was intoxicating; its unfamiliar angles and planes were a territory that she longed to claim.

The one thing that was standing in her way was Katrina. As much as she knew that Crane needed time to mourn his marriage, it was hard to be patient when she was so sure of her own feelings.

Finally, the door opened and Crane stumbled out, pulling on his military-style coat and straightening his hair. He climbed into the car and faced her with such a look of delight that she was slightly taken aback.

'Good morrow, my love. And how are you this fine day?'

Any thought of criticising his tardiness fled when he took her hand and kissed it tenderly.

'A little tired,' she confessed. 'I didn't sleep much.'

'I am sorry to hear that. I slept wonderfully well.'

'Really?' Abbie couldn't help being cheered by his sunny disposition. 'Why was that?'

'I had the most delightful dream. I was awakened from a peaceful slumber by a glorious sound. On emerging from the cabin, I saw a songbird sitting on a tree branch. Its song was clear and deep as a mountain stream and I was struck dumb with happiness. All darkness and gloom were banished from my heart. I was convinced once again that the Earth is vast and beautiful and well worth saving. Then, as if by magic, the bird flew to my outstretched hand. I felt blessed to have found the favour of that songbird, and I knew that I was no longer alone in the world.'

Abbie could barely breathe. She was overwhelmed by a myriad of emotions – gratitude, love, but mostly fear.

From her childhood, love was a volatile concept – one moment making peanut butter sandwiches and singing Billie Holliday, the next throwing kitchen knives past her head. Even as an adult, love was a Molotov cocktail that she tried to keep from blowing up in her face at all costs. She had never let anyone close enough to love her – not until that moment.

All she could do was reach forward and softly stroke his beard. It was all the contact she dared allow herself at that moment, but it was full of the promise of more.

'Come on,' she said eventually. 'We've got work to do.'

* * *

They encountered a scene of horror as soon as they stepped into the clearing. A forestry worker had found the group a little after dawn, lying in a circle where they had fallen. In the centre of the space was the stump of an old oak tree, covered with the waxy remains of candles.

The area was crawling with forensics people and uniformed officers. The first familiar person they saw was Sheriff Reyes, her face a gaunt mask of determination.

'Mills, Crane, thank you for coming.'

Abbie looked around her in some shock, making a mental calculation. 'You said multiple deaths. There must be at least a dozen people here.'

'Fifteen in total, varying in age, gender, background and ethnicity. We found a group of cars at the bottom of the hill – it looks like they travelled here together. We've managed to ID several from driver's licenses but we're running through missing person's reports at the moment.'

Crane surveyed the scene, processing details with his unerring perception. 'Lieutenant Mills informed me that this was a suspected mass-suicide, yet this crime bears the hallmarks of an occult ritual.'

Reyes glanced at the other officers before stepping closer to the pair. 'That's not something we want the public getting wind of. I brought you in because of your expertise in this field. I'm not interested in hearing reports of public disturbances or guns being discharged in underground tunnels. I want you to find who is responsible for this, quickly and cleanly. Understood?'

'Perfectly well, madam.' Crane nodded tersely.

He stepped closer to the tree stump as Sheriff Reyes went to speak to one of her subordinates. Abbie snapped on a pair of latex gloves and lifted the sheet covering one of the bodies.

'God, this girl can't be more than fifteen,' she muttered, kneeling down to examine the body. The teenager was clad head to foot in a dark green hooded robe, but it was her face that caught Abbie's attention.

Her eyes were slightly open, her mouth frozen in a rictus of pain. What was more alarming was the black substance oozing from her nose and mouth. 'Crane?'

'Lieutenant, there seems to be some form of ash on the surface of this tree stump.'

'Ash?' Abbie thought for a moment, before motioning to of one of the forensic techs. 'Can you get a sample of this substance please? Cross-check it with the stuff in their noses and mouths.'

Crane looked sidelong at Abbie. 'You believe that they might have inhaled this ash?'

'Look at their faces, Crane. It looks like they choked on the stuff.'

'The ritualistic setting suggests some form of paganism or modern witchcraft.'

'You think this is a Wiccan ritual gone wrong?' Abbie asked. She shook her head. 'Wiccans have a deep reverence for nature and life – they don't go in for murder.'

'And yet…' Crane examined a trace of the ash he had collected with the blade of his pocket knife. He took on what Abbie had come to know as his "long ago and far away face". 'In ancient times, witches and warlocks were known to practice arboreal magic – tree worship. Certain trees were considered sacred – the hazel for example was considered particularly potent. Ash from these trees was often utilised in healing rituals.'

'But somehow it was used to kill fifteen people. These people suffered, Crane. There was violence and intent involved. Whoever did this intended to kill.'

'Indeed,' Crane said thoughtfully. 'And harnessed the dark arts to do so. There is undoubtedly a powerful practitioner of magic on the loose in Sleepy Hollow.'

There was a knowing look on Abbie's face, one that she scarcely tried to conceal.

'I know what you suspect, Lieutenant, but we must not jump to conclusions…'

'I never said anything. All I know is – there's one surviving witch in Sleepy Hollow.'

As they made their way back to Abbie's car, Crane looked increasingly perturbed. 'You do not think Katrina had any involvement in this crime? She may be many things, but she is not a killer. She has only ever used her powers for good.'

Abbie turned to him. 'Like it or not, we have to talk to her, if only to eliminate her from the investigation.' She stepped close to him and interlaced her fingers with his. 'I'll handle it, Crane. You shouldn't have to deal with this, not when things are so strained between you. Let me do my job.'

'Thank you,' he whispered, giving her hand an affectionate squeeze. 'But if you will indulge me, I wish to speak to Katrina alone. Until we find more evidence, her knowledge could prove invaluable. I do not wish to ambush her. Will you allow me this wish, my dear?'

She looked into his pleading eyes and knew that she could not deny him his request. As she climbed into the car, a seed of doubt germinated in the back of her mind. It was not Ichabod that she mistrusted. Call it intuition or the instincts of a seasoned cop, but as she thought back over the crime scene, she suspected that there was something else at work, something dark and unholy at the heart of Sleepy Hollow.

Something that would surely strike again.


	5. Chapter 5

Sapphire McQueen greeted Crane at the door with a look of evident distaste.

'Mr. Crane. How may I help you?'

Though momentarily taken aback, Crane quickly absorbed her dislike of him. He even understood it to a certain extent. He had injured her friend and must therefore be a scoundrel in her eyes.

'Mrs. McQueen.' He bowed slightly. 'I would like to speak to Katrina, if I may.'

Sapphire was unsettled by his adherence to good manners, and ushered him inside.

From the hallway, Crane saw Katrina standing in the conservatory, her hands idly brushing the tips of a rosemary plant. As he regarded her, he felt his former love for her to be as strange and remote as a foreign country. Although he had a sense of nostalgia and regret for the life they had once shared and lost, he felt secure in his love for Abbie.

'Katrina.'

It was her eyes that he registered first, wide and green and fresh with hurt. His heart clenched as he beheld her, a wave of sadness crashing over him. The moment passed as quickly as it arrived, reminding him of the reason for his visit. He had come to question Katrina about the mass murder that had taken place in the forest. Not for a moment did he suspect his estranged wife of involvement, but he knew he would have to temper his natural sympathy for her.

'Ichabod – what a pleasure to see you.'

As Crane stepped into the conservatory, the fragrance of roses wafted through the air. It filled his nostrils with a scent that was inimitably feminine.

'How have you been? Might I offer you something?'

The simplicity of Katrina's concern for him was heartrending. 'No thank you. I have come on a matter of business.' He cringed at the formality of his words, but quickly recollected his need to distance himself from her.

'Please.' Katrina gestured to a couch nearby. 'I will try to help you in any way I can.'

Crane calmly informed her about the murder scene they had encountered that morning. He saw her grimace as he described some of the grislier details, concluding that she was either innocent or a phenomenal actress.

'Such violence speaks of dark magic,' Katrina said thoughtfully. 'I have not sensed any such power, but I have been much distracted lately. This mage has clearly managed to cloak themselves from my sight.'

'Or mages,'Crane considered. 'Perhaps this person did not act alone.'

Katrina's face lit up with excitement. 'There have long been rumours of a dark coven in Sleepy Hollow. Other than Serilda of Abaddon, I have never had proof that they existed. Perhaps this is a harbinger of the next horseman of the Apocalypse.'

There was a comforting familiarity in their interactions. Crane was painfully reminded of what a good team they used to be. He felt the need to clear the air.

'I am sorry, Katrina,' he said earnestly. 'Not for what I did, but for the way it happened. I failed to consider your bewilderment and confusion at this unfamiliar world. The differences between us should not have blunted my compassion for you. I ought to have known better.'

Katrina smiled ruefully. 'You were not solely to blame. I was flattered by Washington's trust in me, enraptured by the idea of my role in the war. I realise that my powers as a witch made me arrogant and puffed up. I was not open with you, Ichabod. If I had the chance again, I would do things every differently.'

She looked out across the garden, tears catching in her lashes. She wrung her hands distractedly. 'I hate this place, Ichabod, this time…' she said in a small voice. 'I miss our home, our friends.'

For the first time, Crane understood how utterly alone Katrina was. Aside from Sapphire, she had no other friends in the town. Everything she had done had been for his sake, for the sake of their mission. Her actions were misguided, not malicious. Perhaps he should not have blamed her so harshly for her half-truths and evasions.

'When I first awoke in this time, all I hoped for was to be reunited with you,'he confessed. 'Then one day we were back together again, but somehow I felt farther away from you than ever.'

She met his gaze with a look of frankness that was disarming. 'Relationships must be tended to. Perhaps we both might have tried harder.'

Crane felt a creeping sense of discomfort. He knew that this conversation was the closing chapter in the story of his marriage. At the same time, he felt closer to Katrina than he had in a long time, perhaps ever.

* * *

By the time Crane opened the front door of the cabin, his confusion had not abated. A few hours ago, he had been so sure of his feelings. He still knew that his marriage was over, that his future belonged with Abbie. At the same time, old feelings for Katrina had been uncovered by his visit. He felt dizzy with confusion.

'Hey.' Abbie wandered into the living room. 'You were gone a while.' She wandered up to him and offered her lips for a kiss.

He gave her a chaste peck and turned to remove his coat. 'Katrina seemed completely ignorant of the crime. She has agreed to help us uncover the identity of the perpetrators.'

Abbie looked at him sceptically, unnerved by his cool demeanour. 'Ok. The autopsies revealed that the victims died from asphyxiation, having inhaled over three litres of wood ash. It's being sold to the media as a mass suicide, but Reyes wants us to deal with the case as expeditiously as possible.'

'Understood, Lieutenant.' He swallowed nervously.

'Crane, what the hell happened with Katrina?' She didn't mean to sound so blunt, but she needed to know what was going on. She didn't trust Katrina, and knew that Crane was a soft touch when it came to his former wife. Not to mention that she wasn't nearly so sure of Katrina's innocence as Crane seemed to be.

'Matters were aired between us… I feel that we have reached a mutual understanding regarding the past.'

Abbie began to feel a growing sense of alarm. 'What does that mean, Crane?' she asked evenly.

Crane sat down in exhaustion. 'I don't know. I'm not sure of anything anymore.'

'You're reconsidering us, aren't you?' Abbie was awash with an odd sense of calm, of resignation. From the beginning, the realisation of their love seemed like a dream, like a spell that had been woven over the two of them. Whenever reality threatened to shatter their beautiful illusion, that magical tie bound them together even more tightly than before.

It seemed that the spell was about to be shattered forever.

'Abbie,' Crane looked up at her from his hunched position on the couch. 'I'm so confused. I feel as if I don't know myself.'

He appeared diminished somehow, a bowed and broken form of the proud man that she had loved. Shocked by his demeanour, she reached over and touched his forehead. His skin felt like fire.

'Crane!' she exclaimed. 'You're sick.'

He groaned, sinking further down into the couch. Suddenly, he whipped his head up, fixing her with a look of almost animal ferocity. 'Get away from me, witch!' he snarled.

In a flash, he was himself again. His face was covered with shame. 'Forgive me, I… I don't know what is happening to me.'

'It's Katrina, isn't it?' Abbie said with fury. 'She's done something to you!'

Her phone buzzed and Abbie saw Jenny's name on the screen. 'Jenny, thank God you called. It's Crane – he's sick. I think Katrina's put some kind of spell on him.'

'Katrina? Abbie, I don't think that's possible.' Jenny sounded oddly defensive.

'Why not?' Abbie's attention was divided between Jenny and Crane, whose face looked wan and clammy.

'Because she's here with me now. We're at the Archives.'

Abbie felt her heartrate increase. There was a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, a rare sign of pure intuition. She felt certain that something horrible was about to happen.

'We've found out some stuff that might be related to the murders. It's pretty shocking and it's not what you think. You guys need to get down here.'

There was a moment of silence as Abbie simultaneously processed what was being said and what was happening before her eyes.

'Jenny, get over here now.'

'Abbie, what…?'

'Get over here and bring Katrina. Crane's unconscious.'


	6. Chapter 6

Katrina burst through the cabin door without pausing, a liberty Abbie would have objected to had she not been so distracted.

'How is he?' Katrina demanded. 'Is he worse?'

Jenny trailed behind her, a quizzical expression on her face. If Abbie didn't know better, she would say that her tough, hard-as-nails sister looked scared.

Katrina entered the bedroom at speed, only to stop dead at the sight of Crane. He lay barely conscious on the bed, his skin pallid, his breathing laboured.

'Ichabod…' Her voice was barely above a whisper, but Abbie could hear the sound of genuine distress in her quiet tones. She placed her hands in the air above the supine figure before slowly moving them down his body.

Abbie was sorely tempted to snatch the other woman's hands away. There was something so intimate about Katrina's actions that it tore at her heart. Once more she felt like an intruder, like the other woman. She tried to remind herself that Crane belonged to her now, but there was no much of his life that was still tangled up with Katrina.

She quickly realised that whatever the witch was doing was going to take a while. She turned to Jenny, who was still looking shaken and stunned, and led her back into the living room.

'What were you talking about on the phone?'

Jenny immediately opened the fridge and rifled about for a beer. 'I was looking for information about those people in the forest – ties to occult activities, anything that would give a clue as to why they were murdered. Katrina suggested I look in the records of Ephraim Machin, an 18th-century scientist and diarist in Sleepy Hollow.'

She popped the lid off her beer and took a long drink. 'He was also interested in alchemy and occult activities. He wrote about two covens in the town – one allied to the cause of good and one to evil.'

Abbie sighed impatiently. 'We know about this already. How does this help Crane?'

'This is bigger than Crane, Abbie, bigger than all of us.' Jenny looked older somehow, more serious than Abbie had ever seen her. 'What happened in the woods was a final showdown between the two covens. The evil side has arisen, they've recruited, and now they're more powerful than ever before.'

Abbie felt strangely calm. Despite the gravity of what her sister had just told her, she felt no urge to panic. Years of compartmentalising her feelings allowed her to adapt to strange circumstances with disturbing ease. She had adjusted to Ichabod Crane's arrival, just has she had become accustomed to the bizarre events that had become her life's work. All these things she had taken in her stride. Surely this was no different.

'Abbie?'

She heard Jenny's voice in the distance, pulling her back to reality.

'You okay, Ab?'

There was something missing – one essential keystone that had kept her from falling apart on a daily basis. Crane had been her sounding board, her touchstone, her other half long before she had any inkling of it. She felt his illness like a knife in her heart. Crane had fallen in battle; he had been struck down on her watch. Abbie felt stuck, incapable of action or forward propulsion. She was utterly powerless, and the feeling was devastating.

Jenny saw the hollow terror in her sister's eyes. When they were kids, it was always Abbie who had offered words of comfort, who had shielded her from harm. Now she saw the need to step into Abbie's shoes and act the protector. She reached forward and grabbed her sister's shoulders.

'It's going to be okay, Abbie. We'll figure it out, just like always.'

'Promise?' The vulnerability in Abbie's voice was heartbreaking.

'Promise,' Jenny said with more conviction than she felt.

Katrina emerged from the bedroom, her face blank as her hands fidgeted with her skirt.

'So?' Jenny enquired. 'What's the matter with him?'

'He has been placed under a spell.' Katrina's shuddered, her face clouded with an unnamed fear. 'It is the one forbidden charm, the one that spells death for any witch found guilty of casting it. It was designed to capture the most dangerous, most elusive magic…'

Katrina looked directly at Abbie, a curious look about her lovely features. 'It is a love spell. The most difficult and dangerous of all. Even the most skilled witch cannot cast it successfully. Love is a mysterious agent – neither reason nor will can prevent us from falling into its embrace.'

There was a moment of intense silence as Katrina's eyes bore deeply into Abbie's. There was anger there, but slowly it faded into something like understanding – even acceptance. 'It happens involuntarily – we cannot help ourselves. Trying to force love upon another person through magic robs them of their free will… their very identity.'

Abbie could feel a cold, clammy sensation at the base of her spine as the knot of tension in her stomach coiled ever tighter. 'What does this mean for Crane?' she asked through gritted teeth.

'The spell manifests itself as a kind of emotional amnesia. Slowly, his attachment to one person will begin to unravel and fix itself to another.'

'Wait a second,' Jenny interjected. 'Are you saying that someone put a spell on Crane to fall out of love with Abbie and in love with you?'

Katrina's head dropped into her chest. 'Yes,' she whispered.

'How convenient,' Jenny muttered.

'I had nothing to do with this, I assure you,' Katrina protested. 'And I will do everything I can to try and reverse it.'

'And what if you don't?' Abbie asked quietly, fearfully. 'Tell me the truth.'

'At the rising of the next moon, Crane will have irrevocably forgotten his feelings for you. All emotional ties between you will be severed. It will be as if you never knew him.'

Abbie stood in shock and horror as she absorbed Katrina's words. So much had happened in the last few hours that she felt untethered, as if she was disappearing. Everything became distant and out of focus, but she could faintly hear Katrina and Jenny talking among themselves.

'Jennifer, it is imperative that you take me somewhere immediately. Please ask me no questions. Time is of the essence.'

'What about Crane?'

'I've put him to sleep for a while. The rest will calm his fever, but we must hurry.'

They were gone before Abbie was aware of it. Numbly, she wandered into the bedroom and sat down beside Crane, now resting peacefully. She wanted to cry but felt completely empty inside.

'Crane,' she whispered. 'You won't forget me, will you?'

Somehow, against her knowledge and even her will, he had worked his way into her life and made himself indispensable. Surely that had to leave a mark? If not through the vows they had made, then by everything they had been through together. Somehow the aggregate of all the dangers they had overcome – the number of times they had walked through fire for each other – surely that must amount to something more tangible than memory?

'Abbie…'

Crane's voice was weak, but it was as familiar and as necessary to Abbie as her own heartbeat. Hearing it sent a flood of warmth through her body.

'I'm here, Crane.' She held his hand tightly. 'I'm not going anywhere.'

'A songbird flew to me in a dream… It flew to my hand and I felt myself possessed of a strange and powerful magic. Its tiny heart fluttered against my breast and I heard its precious song… I know better now… I have learned that it is wrong to keep a songbird caged. I must let it fly free.'

Abbie felt a sense of profound hopelessness. It was immediately twinned with a determination to set this right. Crane had put himself on the line for her too many times to let him give up now. She had to do everything in her power to fight for him – for them both.

She leaned close to his ear and whispered. 'My name is Abbie Mills – Grace Abigail Mills, but you call me Lieutenant. We're Witnesses to the Apocalypse, but more than that, we're partners… we're friends. But somehow along the way, we fell in love. Even if you can't find that part in your memory, remember the other parts. Remember that I'm your Abbie, and I'll always be here for you, no matter what.'

The front door slammed open at that moment, and in walked Katrina and Jenny. Behind them they dragged Sapphire McQueen.

Abbie launched herself at the woman, but Jenny swiped her away with one arm.

'You did this!' Abbie shouted. 'You're responsible for this, you bitch!'

'I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry!' Sapphire whimpered. 'I only wanted to make things right.'

Katrina's head snapped up and she turned to her former friend. 'Right? You have used the arts I have shown you against the man I love. You have sinned against nature!'

'I did it for you – for you both! I saw what she did.' Sapphire looked at Abbie with pure malice. 'If it wasn't for her you'd still be together. So I asked her for a spell. I thought I could fix things.'

'Asked who?' Abbie demanded.

Sapphire stood in sullen silence. Suddenly, Katrina reached forward and grabbed her face with one hand. 'You owe me an answer, Sapphire. Tell me who helped you cast the spell!'

'The lady…' Sapphire stammered. 'The head of the coven – she gave me the draught and taught me how to work the charm.'

'Her name!' Katrina's voice was quiet yet full of menace. 'Tell us her name.'

Sapphire shook from head to foot. 'It's Sheriff Reyes,' she blurted out. 'She's the one in charge.'


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I started this story it was a reflection on the sad state of affairs that Season Two had become. Now Season Three has been green-lit and Katrina has been dispatched to the great corset factory in the sky. How do I feel? Cautiously optimistic I would say, but the story continues unabated. 
> 
> Thanks for your comments, both critical and kind. I cherish them all.

It was like time running in reverse. Watching Crane's feelings for her begin to wane and die was tearing Abbie apart. Slowly yet inexorably, she could sense the rot setting in like waves rolling onto a shore or hungry flames eating through paper. In the manner of a child caring for a senile parent, she tried to remind him of the moments that they had shared, memories that had woven themselves so tightly into her being that she could not prise them loose if she wanted to.

At first it seemed to work. Crane's bloody-mindedness shone through and he clung to his love for her like a man possessed. His eyes never left hers for a moment, drawing strength from her even as she begged and pleaded with him not to forget them.

By the time he started asking for Katrina, Abbie had to leave the room. She had tried to prepare herself for this moment but seeing it arrive in full force was gut-wrenching. It was worse than living though his death, worse than any sadistic form of torture that Moloch might have invented for them. This was a permanent erasure, a separation from each other's lives that could never be undone.

She sat on the bathroom floor, her shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. There was a horrible hollow, sinking feeling inside that she associated with the loneliest points of her childhood. For the first time since Crane arrived in her life, she was completely alone.

She checked her phone, more from habit than interest. She knew that Jenny would call when she had news. Before Katrina left, she assured Abbie that the spell could be undone, that she would do everything she could to make it so. She was sceptical of course. After all, what reason did Katrina have to reverse a spell that benefitted her?

Katrina's face was rigid as she spoke. 'Believe me, Abigail, I would not wish my husband back under these circumstances. To see him denuded of choice, robbed of his character – that would not a happy life make.'

She left Sapphire behind her – a wretched, snivelling spectacle of a woman. Abbie would have preferred her gone, but caring for Crane in this state was more than she could manage alone. In truth, her presence there – as unwelcome as it felt – was something of a distraction.

A shard of guilt pierced her heart as she thought of Jenny. What if she was in trouble? What if she needed backup? She knew that her sister was well able to handle herself, but the more time that elapsed, the more fearful she became. Irving wasn't answering his phone and Hawley was out of town, so if something went wrong, Jenny was well and truly on her own.

The silence that surrounded the cabin grew loud in Abbie's ears, filling her with the certainty that something was about to happen. She was on her feet and rushing out of the bathroom before she knew it, shocking Sapphire out of her slumber on the couch.

'What… what's the matter? Is it Crane?'

Before Abbie could respond, the door burst open and there stood Jenny, her hair wild and her eyes no less so. In one hand was Abbie's second-best sidearm, in the other a vial of liquid. The latter she held up in front of Abbie.

'They gave me this. We have to be quick. You,' Jenny snapped at Sapphire. 'Get some water in a shallow bowl, right now.'

Sapphire obeyed without a word. Abbie looked inquiringly at her sister, half-terrified, half-hopeful. Her heart hammered in her chest. It was at that moment that a question formed in her mind.

'Hey, Jen – where's Katrina?'

Jenny stashed the gun in her belt. There was a certain evasiveness about her that Abbie did not like.

'The meet with Reyes didn't go according to plan.' Her hands quivered as she spoke – the aftereffects of adrenaline. 'She gave us an incantation and the liquid in that vial, but only in return for Katrina.'

'Katrina?' Abbie breathed. 'She's never… joined them, has she?'

Jenny shook her head ruefully. 'She's being held hostage. This is even bigger than we thought, Abbie. Reyes is trying to consolidate her power by luring every prominent person in town into her coven.' She walked over to the window and flicked one of the curtains open a fraction. 'Everyone's involved – business leaders, politicians, even members of the force. Those she can't persuade, she threatens or bribes. She's gathered herself quite a little army in Sleepy Hollow, right under our noses.'

Abbie's mind reeled. 'What's this got to do with Crane?'

'It's the next step in bringing on Apocalypse 2.0 – an army of witches, working to bring about the End of Days. And what better ally could they have on their side than one of the two Witnesses?'

It occurred to Abbie how skilfully they had been manipulated and used. When that idiot Sapphire went to Reyes for help, she could have had no idea that she was about to be drawn into her web of deceit. Clearly, she was a more formidable opponent than they could have anticipated.

Two things were abundantly clear; they needed Crane in order to strategise their next move, and they had to act fast.

* * *

'Lieutenant?'

The cabin was dark now, illuminated only by the low-burning fire. Abbie had been sitting on the floor, staring into its depths for so long that her face felt thin and crisp as parchment. She paid no heed to Crane's gentle repetition of her name, trying against her will to drag her back to reality.

'Abbie?'

She sighed, knowing that he only used her given name in times of great stress or danger. She could scarcely ignore him now, much as she would wish to. Using her hands to brace her, she spun around to face him while remaining seated.

Hours had passed since Jenny and Sapphire had left, leaving them to discuss the implications of Crane's decision. Abbie had spent a good forty-five minutes shouting at him, pausing occasionally to lob various heavy objects at his head.

'What the hell do you mean you're going to give Reyes what she wants? You expect me to stand back and watch while you give yourself up to her? Are you actually nuts? I'd like to put this down to the last of the spell leaking out of your brain, but I think you might actually be insane.'

It took another hour before Abbie was able to calm down and listen to his reasons. If the coven was truly as powerful as Jenny said, then plotting an ambush would be both futile and suicidal. It was crucial that Katrina be brought to safety (listening to him say those words felt like a knife in Abbie's heart). The only way to keep the coven from killing everyone was to sacrifice himself – if only temporarily. With Katrina on their side they stood a chance against the coven, if only because her knowledge of magic was greater than theirs.

Deep down, Abbie knew these things to be true. It still didn't make them any easier to swallow.

'What do you want me to do, Crane? Offer you my blessing? Tell you I'm fine with what you're doing? Because I'm not – I'm not okay, Crane. Not as your partner and certainly not as…' Her voice faltered.

'Had I a choice, I would choose to stay here with you. Tell me you know that, Abbie.'

'You can,' she countered. 'You can choose to stay, but then you'd be condemning Katrina to death. I would never ask you to do that, but if you think you can salve your conscience by getting me to agree with you, then I'm sorry, Crane. I won't do that.'

Crane looked down at his hands, as if seeking the answer to his dilemma. 'I don't want your blessing, merely your understanding. I know what I have chosen to do is unpalatable – perhaps it is folly.' He looked directly at her. 'But I cannot see my way clear. All my life I have relied on my powers of reason to guide me through life's trials, but I simply cannot think my way out of this. Do you know how frightening that is to me?'

Abbie looked deeply into his eyes and saw his struggle. Suddenly all resistance fell away, all desire to argue was replaced with a need to hold him in her arms. She crawled forward until she knelt before him, taking his large hands in her smaller ones. She kissed each of them with reverence before placing them back in his lap.

'It's just after midnight. We have eight hours until Reyes's deadline. If this is the last night we spend together, then I don't want to spend it fighting.'

The tenderness in his eyes was matched by something deeper and fiercer. It spoke of something long suppressed, something keen that lay dormant within him, waiting for his moment to be expressed.

He pulled her up with gentle but firm intent, lifting her into his lap. When he kissed her it was like a homecoming, tinged with the knowledge that their home was about to snatched away from them, burned from the ground and scrubbed from the earth forever. Abbie delved her fingers through his long tresses, tugging at his shirt with her free hand.

'Crane,' she whispered, his name in her mouth like a benediction.

'Abbie,' he replied with just as much devotion.

He pulled away from her just long enough to rid himself of his clothes, while Abbie did the same for hers. They lay side by side for a long time, simply taking each other in; the beauty and the imperfections, the curves and freckles and miles of skin that might have taken a lifetime to explore.

It was not as elegant as they had dreamed, but as they came together on the tattered couch in the cabin that was their sanctuary, neither of them wished that it was any different.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay in completing this story, but college work and life have got in the way. As always, thanks for your patience and support. It's a bittersweet ending, but that's just how I'm feeling right now. I may not be done with this universe, but until then, I hope you enjoy.

They lay in each other's arms until the sky faded from black to ink-blue. Each knew the other's thoughts, despite the fact that barely a word was spoken between them. Both were painfully aware that their time together was coming to a close – that soon they would have to face the music.

Their lovemaking was tender but strained, passionate yet tinged with sorrow. As pleasurable as it had been, it was simply too dangerous to try it more than once. A first time was an introduction, an acknowledgement of long-suppressed desires. A second would be a promise of more.

Eventually the silence became unbearable.

'Crane?' Abbie whispered.

He hummed in response.

'We have to go.'

They dressed in silence, the fear of what was coming weighing heavily on their minds. Abbie could not stop thinking about the horrible dilemma that Crane faced – to turn himself over to evil or watch his wife die. She found that even she had some room in her heart to pity Katrina. It was all she could do not to dwell on her own suffering – on the knowledge that Crane might soon be ripped from her life.

'So how do we play this?' she asked as casually as anything, as if this was just another mission. When he didn't reply she felt fear gripping her like an icy hand. Her mind went blank; for once there were no plans and strategies buzzing through her head. There was nothing but the leaden weight of the inevitable.

Crane turned to her with a formality that made her shrink inside. It was as if they were strangers again – not newfound lovers – he the professorial time-traveller from Revolutionary times, she the tough, ambitious cop with a painful history. When he looked at her, there was a sadness there that she couldn't stand.

'Abbie.' He reached forward and clasped her hands in his. 'Whatever may occur today, I want you to know that I regret nothing that has occurred. Every step that I have taken, every choice I have made has led me to you. My transition to this era has been bewildering and devastating by turns, but my life would have been a pale, insipid thing but for you. You have made my little life something splendid.'

Abbie snatched her hands from his with a sudden fury. 'So that's what this is? You want my blessing for a suicide mission?'

Crane tried to interject but Abbie ignored him. 'Last night was not goodbye, do you hear me? You do not get to say goodbye.' Without realising it, her voice had raised to shouting. 'We will get Katrina back alive, but I will not sacrifice you to do it.'

'I wish it were that simple,' Crane said softly.

'It is,' Abbie whispered – her voice hoarse. 'I'll make it that simple. I'm strong enough for us both.' She reached up and tenderly stroked his cheek. 'We've been through too damn much to lose each other now. Not for a moment. Not even for whatever dumb, self-sacrificial, heroic plan you got in mind. Got it?'

Crane gave a slow, painful smile. 'Got it.'  


* * *

The road was ghostly as Crane and Abbie approached, their arms occasionally brushing as if in silent acknowledgement of their intimacy. Jenny had given them the directions to the remote stretch of country road where the encounter was to take place. Abbie Googled the address and immediately saw that it was the ideal location – flat and isolated with not much cover for an ambush. She knew that they were hamstrung every way they looked.

In one selfish moment, Abbie allowed herself to wish that Crane was less noble, less big-hearted than he was. Abbie quickly remembered herself. Despite everything that had happened between them, she knew that he would never allow Katrina to be killed. Besides, if he was less of a man, she never would have fallen in love with him to begin with.

No, this was the only way. Crane would hand himself over to Reyes and her coven. He would be strong – too strong to submit to darkness. Abbie grudgingly reminded herself that he had recently shown himself to be vulnerable to Sapphire's magic. How could be resist a witch as powerful as Reyes?

Her mind shut down, unable to contemplate the idea of Crane being manipulated for the cause of evil. He would rather die than do such a thing. The thought gave her pause. Perhaps that was what Crane expected of her – to have the strength to do what he could not.

Could she? Would she ever be able to summon up the strength required to murder the man she loved?

'Right there, Witnesses.' An all-too familiar voice cut into her thoughts.

Reyes appeared from a large copse of trees on their right. There was a disinterested, bored look in her eyes that Abbie had once mistaken for steely determination. She could now see it for what it was – a detachment from the struggles of life and the frailty of lesser mortals. She had got to a stage where she just didn't care anymore.

'I hope you're going to be sensible about this.'

'We are,' Crane replied. 'I mean to hand myself over, but first I must know that Katrina is safe.'

'Very well.' She clicked her fingers. Almost immediately two figures appeared from the dense thicket. Abbie witnessed the struggle to remain calm in Katrina's expression and the explosion of relief when she saw Crane.

Abbie let out an audible gasp as she recognised the man who held Katrina in his iron grasp. She looked up at Crane and saw the same horror reflected in his eyes.

It was Frank Irving.

'There!' Reyes murmured in triumph. 'I wanted to see the look on your stupid faces when you figured it out. Magnificent.'

'Frank, how could you?' Abbie was so shocked and betrayed that the words were thick and sluggish on her tongue. She turned to face Reyes. 'What have you done to him?'

'Nothing he didn't want,' she replied nonchalantly. 'Power is extremely seductive, even to the most pure of heart. Life is so mundane, don't you find? Struggling day by day to gain advantage with no reward. You've suffered so much grief and trouble, Grace Abigail Mills. And for what? Some outmoded notion of piety. Isn't it so much easier to let go and accept the inevitable?'

'Not for all the world.' As confident as she sounded, Abbie was filled with despair. Reyes had paraded her trophy of Frank Irving in front of them for a reason. He was her prized recruit – their friend. It was a display of Reyes's power, that she could potentially turn anyone. To Abbie, it was the ultimate demonstration that she was now utterly alone.

Reyes gave a horrible grimace of victory. 'How wonderful. That will make this more fun.'

'Don't do it, Ichabod!' Katrina screamed suddenly.

'Do it, Ichabod,' Reyes countered blandly. 'Otherwise I will be forced to stop the heart of your darling Lieutenant here.'

Crane looked at Abbie in terror. 'Do not,' he commanded. 'I will do as you ask.'

What followed seemed to happen in a strange kind of slow-motion. She was able to see everything, yet was helpless to act.

_'Somnis mortis!'_ Katrina held up her palm and a beam of light shot forth from it, hitting Crane square in the chest. He flew backwards and collapsed to the ground.

Before anyone could react, Katrina placed the same hand over her own heart and whispered the words, _'Mortis cordis.'_  


* * *

Weeks passed, and Abbie watched as Crane slowly came back to life. Watching him struggle with the shock of Katrina's death and Frank's betrayal was almost too much for Abbie to bear. As much as she longed to help him, she knew that it was his burden to bear alone.

One afternoon, she sat on the front steps of the cabin, waiting for him to return from one of his solitary walks. Since that awful day when Katrina had bravely taken her own life – taking herself out of the equation – Sheriff Reyes had disappeared from Sleepy Hollow. Her assistant said that she was taking some personal time, but it seemed that her coven had also gone into hiding in her absence.

Abbie was also trying to deal with Frank's turn to evil. It was almost impossible to imagine how such a good-hearted, moral man could embrace darkness so eagerly. Perhaps it was as Reyes said, that eventually the trials of life would seem too difficult to overcome when presented with the chance of power. She wondered if she would be strong enough to resist such an offer.

'Lieutenant,' Crane remarked without surprise, 'I've been hoping for a chance to speak with you. Shall we go inside? '

'Let's stay here and catch the last of the sun.'

Crane smiled agreeably and sat down beside her. After a few moments of silence he spoke. 'As you can imagine, these past few weeks have been very painful for me. Grieving for Katrina, thinking about our future…'

'You think we have a future?' Abbie asked evenly.

'Do you not?'

Abbie looked directly at him. 'I've been thinking about us too – about how easy it was to manipulate Frank. And you.'

Crane seemed puzzled and hurt by her statement. 'Captain Irving had pressure points. His family… Macey. Who can tell what your Sheriff Reyes offered? Who knows how he compromised himself?'

'It's no different with you, Crane. The moment Reyes threatened me you were willing to sacrifice yourself. I could see it in your face – there was no hesitation or doubt, no thought of the mission.'

'I remember it distinctly,' Crane admitted. 'I was willing to turn myself over to the coven to save Katrina, but in that moment I would have gladly died to save you.'

Abbie fixed her eyes on the lake, concentrating fiercely on getting the words out. 'That's why we can't be together. Because when it comes to the crunch, we have to be ready to make the ultimate sacrifice to save the world. How can we do that when all we care about is each other?'

'I confess…' Crane spoke with difficulty, his voice choked with tears. 'I confess that I have come to the same horrible conclusion. I love the world too much to love you, my songbird.'

Abbie nearly crumbled at his words. She felt any hope of happiness decay and collapse like sand inside of her. 'We have a war to fight, against Reyes and her coven and whatever else Moloch decides to throw at us. We have to be ready. And perhaps someday… someday we might be able to…'

'Revive the magic?' Crane said teasingly, though his heartbreak was evident as Abbie looked at him.

She leaned over and kissed him gently. 'Friends then?' she asked eventually. 'And partners?'

'Always.'

She slowly stood up and walked away without looking back. She felt like a child again, feeling disappointment and betrayal at realising that she lived in a world without magic and wonder. Steeling herself, she strapped herself into her car and headed back to work.


End file.
